Tales from the Great Wood: Blood Brothers
by fael bain
Summary: (Random anthology of stories from the pre-Shadow Universe) Legolas reaches his 9th birthday, and gets a personal servant. Mayhem, chaos and adventure ensue..Now COMPLETE!
1. Default Chapter

**Blood Brothers**

**Category: **Fantasy 

**Keywords: **Legolas, Thranduil, Lasgalen (Greenwood), Adventure, Fantasy 

**Spoilers:** None 

**Disclaimer: **This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JRR Tolkien, various publishers including but not limited to Mariner Books, Ballantine Books, Houghton Mifflin Co, and New Line Cinemas. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. 

**Author's Note: **This is the first of a collection of short stories. Please enjoy yourself and immerse yourself in the world of the little prince! 

Rated G. Do advise me if you feel it is inappropriate. 


	2. Blood Brothers

**Blood Brothers**

"Arise, Your Highness! Wake up!" The little boy was shaken awake by somebody pulling at his duvet. 

The little prince opened his eyes. They were still shrouded with sleep. He was not yet old enough to sleep in the manner of his kind, and required a lot of rest. Being roused so early in the morning did not appeal to him. 

"Why are you waking me up?" He demanded haughtily of the servant that had interrupted his pleasant dreams. 

"My apologies, Your Highness, but His Majesty has called for you!" 

"But it is so early!" he grumbled, as he fought to get out from under the luxurious beddings. Little arms and legs flailed helplessly for a moment before the servant rushed forward to attend to him. 

He was given a quick and thorough washing-up before fresh clothes were put on. He pulled his favourite tunic. It was a miniature version of a Hunter's garb. Green and brown, it helped him blend in with the surroundings, and served him well in his daily adventures and misdemeanours. He shunned the usual garments that the royals usually wore, preferring to insist that his tastes be catered to, specific as they were. 

A breakfast of fruit and wheat bread was hastily eaten. The servant hurried him at every step, and he was whisked out of his chambers, into the corridor, and down along the way to the king's quarters. He was now old enough now to sleep on his own, a transition made recently, and he was happier for it. He did not need to have a minder running after him with every step he took. 

The younger boy of King Thranduil was anything but pampered and soft. Being used to getting his own way did not make him a weakling. A demonstration of this very fact had just occurred the night before when he had refused an attempt to get him to discard the Hunter's garments for something more stately. Something worthy of a prince. His shouts rang through the palace, and it was only when allowed to continue as he pleased had he ceased his sobbing. 

He was wilful, yes, but there was much love in the little Elf as well, as demonstrated in his close and curious affinity with the amar. Seeds sprang into little saplings at his very touch. Birds landed on his outstretched hands without fear. 

Now, as he ventured down the hallways of the palace, with a drag to his feet, his mind had already started churning, planning to take leave of his father and servants as soon as possible. He hated being a prince. It meant that he could not wander around as he liked. He often watched birds flying, admiring their freedom. Being a prince came with its own shackles. Even though he was only eight, he knew in his heart that it was not the life that he wanted. 

He entered the throne room, face in a half-scowl. It was early in the morning still, and he had not received much sleep the night before, having been up building yet more birdhouses and playing with his animal friends in the privacy of his own room. Knowing the consequences if found out, he did not complain about the early hour. 

Thranduil looked up as the little boy entered in. Frowning as he saw the ordinary clothes his son wore. 

"_maer aur, adar,_" the greeting was cheeky and the sulk left his face as he saw his father's displeasure with his outfit. 

"Legolas, how many times did I have to tell you to put on your proper garments? A Sindarin prince does not walk around wearing ordinary Hunter's clothes!" 

The little prince frowned and started, "Why do I have to dress as somebody I do not want to be? I wish not to be a prince!" 

Thranduil sighed. He was fighting a losing battle to tame his son. The boy was deviating from his role in life by the day. Wild horses would not drag him back when he set out to do something. 

"How is life now that you have moved out of the nursery?" his voice was now gentle and fatherly, gazing at the determined figure that stood before him. 

"I have not had such fun my whole life!" 

Thranduil smiled tenderly at the little figure. The boy was standing ramrod straight. Arms slightly bent at the sides of his body. A stance of a hunter. Always ready. 

"I have called for you, as it would be your ninth birthday soon. It is usually at this age that an Elf has been considered passed out of infancy." 

"I am aware of that, Father. And am looking forward to being left to do whatever I want!" flashing a grin at the ruler, his face lighted up as he contemplated the possibilities. 

"Ai, nin hen. Think not that greater freedom comes with age. An understanding of this would come soon enough." 

The boy stamped his foot impatiently. "Am I not a prince, and therefore free to do as I please? Is that not so?" 

"Nay, my son. Being a Sindarin prince brings with it many responsibilities. Do not be fooled by the splendour and apparent comfort that you see around you. Enough of that however, I did not send for you to lecture on this. I have asked for you, as you will from now on have your own personal servant." 

The little prince looked up. His interest was piqued. It was the tradition among the royals to be given a personal servant when they came of age. The servant would shadow him closely, and take care of all his needs. He was unsure if that was a good thing, however, for if given one who reported every misdeed that he did back to his father, would be to get him in a lot of trouble. A servant who did not share his interests would be a bore and burden. 

A pout worked his way up to the little Elf's lips. 

Thranduil quickly called for his Home Guard to send in the servant before a full-grown tantrum wormed its way into the little prince. 

Legolas stopped stewing the instant he saw the other Elf walk in. He was shocked into silence. The Elf was a boy like him! 

The servant-boy walked hesitantly up to Legolas. His head was a shock of strawberry-blond hair and wide, grey eyes that were watery and a little clouded stared up at his new master. A look of extreme apprehension was on his face. Thin and wiry, he looked half-starved. His frame was very lean, and was shorter than the Elven prince himself. 

"Father!" Legolas began, turning towards the ruler. 

"His name is Esendri. His father used to serve me. He shall, from now on, be your personal servant." 

"But he is a boy!" 

"A very special boy, for he was conceived on the same day as you. An occurrence that happens as rarely as the Valar descend down upon Middle-Earth. It is such that we have decided to let him be your servant." 

Legolas looked back at the servant, eyes sweeping across the pathetic figure once more. He sighed exaggeratedly. "Ai, I suppose he would be my servant then! Come with me, Esendri. I would like to show you my room!" 

He bowed low and took leave of his father. The little Elf trotted behind him obediently and was led back to the quarters of the little prince. Legolas struck up a single-sided conversation along the way, chattering about everything. The weather, the trees, the moon, the stars. 

Once within his chambers, the little prince threw himself onto his bed. The servant stood in the middle of the room, nervously examining his surroundings. 

"I am sorry if I sounded rude! I do it to annoy my father. Do not think anything of it!" 

To his greatest dismay, the other Elf burst into noisy tears. 

Legolas leapt up, and rushed over to the little boy. 

"Please, cry not! It was not my intention to be mean!" for the first time this morning, the Elven prince was flustered, and had no idea what to do. 

Esendri doubled the volume of his sobs, and was soon brawling at the top of his lungs. Legolas muttered a muted exclamation to himself, and reached out. He embraced the little Elf, and held him close, sending deep, comforting waves into the boy. Magic he had acquired from the forest. Warmth. Love. Courage. The emotions flowed through as he concentrated on sending the feelings into Esendri. 

To his amazement, he felt a warm pulsation reverberating back to him. He took a step back, and looked at his new servant with wonder. Nobody else he knew had the same type of magic as he had. One had to be very attuned to the amar and the Beasts to be able to do that. Most were not even aware of its presence when he tried to use the magic on them. 

The sobs diminished in volume, and Legolas continued to speak soothingly to Esendri. He stroked the other's hair softly with his small hand, and sang in an undertone to him. 

When the servant had stopped his crying, the little prince gently let go. There the little servant stood, puffy-eyed and sniffing, not quite taking in the circumstances yet. 

Legolas crossed the room and went over to a beautiful chest and opened it. He took out a little flask. Walking over to Esendri, he offered it to the small Elf, grinning mischievously. 

"Something to make you feel better." 

A small watery smile escaped from the other's lips as he accepted the bottle gratefully. Pulling open the cap, he took a long draught. Loud and hacking coughs broke, and he spluttered as the burning liquid ran down his throat. 

The little prince tinkered cheerfully. "Fine stuff, is it not? I stole it from the kitchens the night before. It is feywine, a favourite of the adults." 

"How did you?" Esendri spoke for the first time. 

"Do not force me to give all my secrets away when you hide yours! Tell me what is bothering you! It would be my first command as your master!" 

Esendri looked miserable yet again, and for a moment, the prince feared he was going to burst into tears yet again. 

He finally spoke, however, and in a thin, shaky voice, replied, "It is nothing, Your Highness. I miss my parents so, and I am afraid!" 

Legolas reached forward and held the other's hand comfortingly. 

"Feel free to let it all out, it would do you good." 

His tone was so authoritative and precocious for one for such a tender age that Esendri could not help but stifle a giggle. The smile that appeared on his face lightened the dark, baleful eyes, and for a moment, the little prince could see a spark of joy and laughter in there. His heart warmed to the little boy born on the same day as himself. He felt as if he were an older brother to his servant, for the other seemed so vulnerable and pitiful. 

He pried the flask from Esendri's hands, throwing it upon the floor. Grabbing the wrists of his friend, he dragged the little boy out of his room. 

"Come on, follow me! I must show you something that I have been working on for so long!" 

He did not give the little Elf any time to protest, and dragged him along the passages of the palace, out into the open air. 

* * *

They slipped through the confines of the palace grounds unseen. Being small and quick, it was relatively easy to sneak through the fence made of a dense network of intertwined tree trunks. The prince had skilfully dug a hole, and employed his magic, so that plants would grow over it after they went through. 

Legolas found Esendri to be as nimble as he was, and was thankful for that. He knew there would be trouble if they were found out trying to leave the palace. His father was rather sticky about confining him to the so-called safe haven that was the palace. 

Having escaped the palace, Legolas led the way, speaking at length about his latest project. He had started building a refuge for the birds he loved dearly. It was ambitious, but he and his friends were determined to do it well. 

As they walked along the paths, the clear air and life surrounding them helped to lift the little servant's heart. He started to feel better, asking questions of his master, a lighter tone returning to his heart, much to the relief of the other. 

Suddenly, an antelope dashed across the path. It passed close to the two little boys, who, startled by the sudden appearance, took a tumbling, falling down hard on their behinds. 

Laughter broke through the forest. 

Legolas leapt up and scowled. Another Elf appeared from within the trees. Though slightly winded, his face was working hard to keep from bursting into howling laughter again. Not a full grown Elf, but bigger and taller than the prince, with hair the colour of chestnuts, his face dark and handsome. 

"What a priceless sight you are, Legolas! I would stay and amuse myself further, but I have prey to catch!" with a leap and bound, he started in the direction of the antelope. 

The prince offered a hand to Esendri and pulled him up. He dusted himself, and explained to the boy. "That was Lithroleah, my best friend. He is not of the Royal Family, and thus is free to roam the woods," the words came out wistfully. "He is older than me, having seen thirty winters, and I can never catch up with him for he is stronger, faster, and beats me in everything! It is just not fair! But I believe I would catch up with him one day, and then he would be sorry for all his teasing!" he shook a little fist in the direction that Lithroleah had gone, and laughed merrily. "But come, we tarry! I must show you my birds!" 

They continued on their journey, and presently came across a swollen riverbed. The water was gushing through what had previously been a mere stream. It was a force to be reckoned with, and Esendri was worried when he saw it. 

Legolas, however, did not find it in his heart to be afraid. The river was in the way, and he was not going to let it stop him from getting through. 

"Master, please, let us find another way around it," Esendri read the look in his master's face. "If you should fall in, the water looks enough to sweep you off your feet! I cannot swim, and I am mortally afraid of water!" 

The young prince shrugged. "You could try to find another way, but I am going to cross it here. I would wait for you on the other side. Perhaps there would be a calmer stretch in front!" 

He took a tentative step forward. Water rushed and instantly wet his little foot which he had placed on the rock. He giggled, feeling the cool water seep through his shoes. Esendri frowned, but kept quiet. He watched, brow furrowed, as the little prince placed another foot gingerly in front of the other, on the next rock. 

Legolas perched there, balanced precariously. He twisted around and waved at Esendri, and took another step. The water was now up to his ankles. It was stronger than ever, and he was shaking from side to side. Soon he was up to his chest in the water, right in the middle of the swollen river. 

"Look, I am already in the middle! It is quite alright!" he shouted out happily to his servant. 

The little jump he gave at the end of his sentence proved to be his undoing. A large wave swept over that very instant, dousing the entire body of the little Elf. He spluttered angrily, waving his arms madly, trying to shield his body from the force of the water. In the moment of unbalance, his legs gave way as a second gush of water pulsed through the river. One instant he was standing there struggling with the water, the next he had disappeared under the wall of it. 

Esendri panicked. He had seen the water wash over his master and the little body get sucked in by the rapids. Rushing forward, he looked about frantically, trying to catch sight of his master. There was nothing. 

Something grabbed hold of him. His fear of water dissipated as he remembered the kindness of the little prince and his duty towards him. He threw all caution to the wind, and leapt straight into the water. 

The coldness that enveloped him caught him unaware. He gasped and tried to surface. There was water everywhere, and he floundered about in a frenzied manner. The river carried him downstream. Just as he felt he was about to expire from the lack of air, he surfaced with a sudden burst of energy. He swung his head around, the life-giving air that filled his lungs sweet and saturated. His mouth opened like a fish out of water, eyes wide and in shock. A little body clad in brown and green being tossed around by the torrents downriver of him was spotted, contrary to his expectations. 

A sudden energy lent itself to his limbs, as he tried to surge forward to his master. A burst of water aided him, and he was propelled forward. He stretched his arms out, ready to grab hold of the little body. He was foiled, however, by the river, as it swept the prince out of his reach. His fingertips barely brushed the body. So close and yet so far. 

Another wave of water pushed Esendri under the surface. More currents pulled and dragged at him in all directions as the water hurled him around. He felt an excruciating pain as he was thrown onto a rock. He started to see stars in front of his eyes. He felt his movements grow churlish, as his brain struggled and screamed for air. His lungs were bursting, and he took in gulps of water in his panic. A sharp searing spasm to his head as he was thrown against yet another rock caused him to jolt out of his downward stupor. 

Throwing himself in a perceived direction of a rock, he used the momentum to hurl himself upward. It worked, miraculously, and he sucked in the air as he surfaced yet again. 

His master, however, was not as fortunate. The limp figure being tossed around was near to him, and he flung himself in that direction. This time round, he managed to catch the prince's body. The current had eased its torrential flow a little, and he held on tightly. Esendri saw through the still surging water that his master was unconscious. A huge, nasty gash had appeared across the little Elf's head, and it was bleeding profusely. Various other cuts, big and small, were also apparent on the little Elf's body. His arm flapped about in a grotesque angle, bent outwards, clearly dislocated at the elbow. 

Esendri himself was bleeding and hurting all over. It did not bother him, and he held on to his Master's body. Using a log that was floating by to help keep himself afloat, he somehow managed to stay conscious, and used the last remnants of his strength to paddle to the riverbank. There, he mustered what was left in his body and pushed the limp body up onto the shore. It was his last, conscious thought, as he sank into a dead faint, that he was afraid he had been too late for his master. The water swept his little body away. He had not made it to shore. 

* * *

Pain racked through his body as he opened his eyes gingerly. The light that flooded through the cracks was blinding, penetrating into the dark world that he had become accustomed to. Delirium and fever swept through his body, threatening to overpower him. The loss of blood had greatly weakened the little Elf. 

His body convulsed, as he yet again sunk into a state of unconsciousness. He did not feel the tender, loving hands that tended to him. The healing balms that were applied to his wounds. He did not hear the soft, comforting words being spoken to him. The worry of those around him as they feared for his life. 

He lay there for a day and a night, fighting with the agents of death and illness that threatened to take him away. His little body twitched every few moments, and from his mouth sprang nonsensical words, fuelled by the onslaught of the fever. 

On the second night, however, the temperature subsided, as the healing salves and powerful Elvish medicine, coupled with the innate strength of his body, began to win the battle. The twitching slowly gave way to a peaceful slumber, and the state of delirium tapered off. 

He opened his eyes fully for the first time in two days, and was greeted by the sight of a beautiful Elf-maiden staring at him. Her eyes were full of tears, and she was tired and sorrowful. 

"Nana!" he breathed. His voice was weak. Powerless. Fearful. 

Seeing her little boy open his eyes, the Elf-maiden's tears fell freely down the sides of her cheeks. She thanked the Valar and leaned forward and kissed his forehead tenderly. 

"Sleep, nin gur. You have been through much. We feared for you, but it is over, and you are on your way to recovery," her voice was low and musical, as gentle as leaves rustling in the wind. Whimsical and sweet, it brought up memories of walking alone in the forest. The wind. The beeches, the elms. 

The little Elf was not convinced, however, and he attempted to get up. Pain coursed through his whole body, as his raw flesh cried out from the abuse. He winced tightly, closing his eyes, and tears sprang to them. Teeth bit the edges of his lips as he tried to refrain from crying out. He noticed that his arm was in a sling and his leg was bandaged in a cast. Other bandages kept the healing herbs in contact with raw wounds, torn muscles screamed in pain. Beads of sweat broke in the fight to control himself. 

"Pray, tithen lass, move not, for it would do you more harm than good. The Healers have worked well. Rest is all that is required to restore your strength now," despite the optimism of her words, the Elf-maiden's eyes continued to moisten, as she saw the pain her young boy was suffering. She stroked his wet hair gently, sending little waves of healing energy into him. 

"Nana, what happened?" he gasped, mind already churning through the haze of pain and confusion. 

"You were found by Hunters upon the banks of the river. Unconscious and still, we feared you lost. It is largely due to the skills of our most celebrated Healers that you have survived." 

Intuitively, Legolas knew that he could not have been washed up by the river. Somebody must have saved him. 

"Esendri," he croaked, before sinking into unconsciousness again as the truth dawned on him. 

The Elf-maiden continued to speak soothingly to the little boy, trying her best to ease his suffering. 

* * *

The little prince slept fitfully that night, tormented by the fact that his friend had not yet been found. His mother would have told him if it were otherwise. He knew in his little heart that his servant had risked his life to save him, and the realisation that he may have lost his in the process weighed him down. 

Darkness melted away as the sun slowly made its presence felt in the world again. The Elf-maiden remained by the bedside, speaking to her son, soothing his pain, making sure she was there when he awoke due to the pain, into a world of extreme suffering, to kiss his tears away. 

Footsteps brought her attention away from her little boy, and she looked up into the face of an old, almost forgotten friend. 

"Milinral!" she whispered, tears of joy replacing that of grief. It had been centuries since they had last met, and it was under unfortunate circumstances that they departed. 

He held up a finger to his lips, and stepped aside. She gasped as she saw a badly scratched and cut Elfling standing behind him. There was a huge bandage across his head, not unlike that of her son's and dressings covering various wounds were evident. 

Esendri bowed low as he came up to the queen. 

"Your Majesty," his eyes, however, had drifted to the limp figure lying on the bed. There was concern reflected in them, as he saw the bandages and furrow upon the prince's face as he slept in dreams that were tormented. 

He walked over and stood beside the bed, tip-toeing to get a better view. His master looked so frail and small, swamped in the luxurious bedding. He took in the sight of the arm cast in a sling, and the tight wrappings around his ankle. 

"Will he be all right?" He breathed softly, turning to face the Elf-maiden. 

"The gash upon his head is not shallow, but it is his shattered ankle that worries us the most. His elbow has begun the healing process, but it is difficult to piece together splintered bones. There is a possibility he may never walk properly again," her words were laboured, eyes never leaving the slumbering boy as she spoke. 

As if in response, Legolas stirred. He opened his eyes and moaned softly as the pain threatened to overwhelm him. They fluttered briefly, and flew wide apart as he sensed his friend's presence. 

"Esendri!" he cried weakly. 

"Yes, Master, I am here!" 

"I feared you lost! The river, it was so powerful!" he shivered as he recalled the experience. The slight action sent spasms of pain coursing through his body once more. His face contorted in agony. 

"Master, please, speak not, you need the rest." 

"No, Esendri, how did you survive?" 

Milinral walked up to the bed and surveyed the pair. 

"I picked him off the banks of the river further downstream. He had floated out of Lasgalen. His first words were to enquire after you when he came to consciousness. His wounds are superficial. You, however, tithen ernil, would need a lot more to get back to normal. Please do rest and let sleep take over so the healing process be sped up!" 

Esendri grinned at the old Elf. He was hugely relieved to see his master alive. Bringing up a hand tentatively, he stroked the little prince's face, sending a strong current through, easing the searing pains that rocked the prince. 

Milinral's face registered shock at the strong and strange magic that was being employed. 

"Your Highness, luck shines upon you, for you have found yourself a Blood Brother." 

"Blood Brother?" 

"Ai, a Blood Brother, or gwanuriar, in the ancient Sindarin tongue. It refers to a magical bond that occurs between two kindred when their bloods are mixed while in mortal danger, as was the case when Esendri saved you in the water. Use it well, nin tithen ernil, for it is a rarity, made even stronger by the chance occurrence of your birth dates. 

"However, our little hero needs rest, for he has been through much. Do forgive me if I relieve you of your friend, Legolas." 

Stretching out and placing his hand over the eyes of the little Elf, he sent out his own magic. Legolas fell asleep instantly. He then took Esendri by the hand and led him out of the room, leaving the Elf-maiden to maintain her silent Virgil over her son. 

**Sindarin Translations: **

amar - earth 

maer aur, adar - good morning, father 

nin hen - my child 

nana - mummy 

nin gur - my heart 

tithen lass - little leaf 

tithen ernil - little prince 


	3. Downfall

**

Downfall

**

Esendri slept well that night. Though thoroughly exhausted by the events, he was relieved that his master was recovering. 

It was dawn when he awoke, and he quietly got out of bed. His body was aching badly, the bruised muscles and cuts stinging as he moved. All that he brushed aside, however, and his first conscious thought was to check on his master. 

Dressing as fast as his injuries would allow him, the little servant Elf flew down the hallways and found his master's room with ease. 

Poking his head through the door, he noticed the queen sitting by his bedside. She had spent the whole night up with him. When the maiden glanced up disinterestedly as he entered the room, Esendri noted that her eyes were puffy from excess tears, and looked utterly exhausted. In spite of this, she still maintained a beauty that caused the little one to pause in his step. 

He walked up to her, unafraid. 

"How feel you today, Esendri?" she looked up and examined the red-headed little boy before speaking. Her voice, as always, was soft and gentle but strained under the burden of caring for her son. 

"Your Majesty, I am fine. These are but surface cuts and scratches, as Milinral pointed out last night." 

She smiled at him, a sad, sincere smile. 

"Have you eaten, tithen pen, for I believe you have not had your breakfast. Do not neglect yourself in your urgent desire to look after Legolas." 

"But I am not hungry!" he started to protest, and was cut short by the loud growl emanating from his stomach. 

The queen tinkered softly. She stood up and pushed the little Elf out of the room, closing the door behind him. "I will not let you back until you have eaten a full meal!" she commanded. 

Esendri cursed his stomach as he walked reluctantly away from the room. He had not even the chance to lay eyes on his master! 

He ate a quick and hurried meal in the palace kitchens, and doubled back to the house of Healing where his friend lay. 

"Now that I have returned, you should rest. I can take your place for a while. You need rest, and food as well!" he told the queen brightly in a hushed tone. 

Seeing there would be no deterring the determined little Elf, the queen agreed. She left her seat by the bed of the still exhausted little prince, and headed for her own chambers for a much needed break. 

Esendri walked up to the bed. His master was still deathly pale. Beads of sweat had formed on his brow, and he was biting his lip. The servant took in the ruby-red mark that his teeth left on his lips, which were turning purple with the sustained pressure put to it. 

He walked into the adjacent room, and fetched a silver basin. Taking a soft silk cloth, he carefully moped his master's brow, wiping away the perspiration and the slight trace of tears that had formed in the corners of his eyes. The little prince stirred slightly, but did not arouse from his uneasy slumber. 

A slight commotion was heard outside the doors as Esendri finished up his careful cleansing of the prince's face. 

"How could you let this happen? It has only been two days ere I left!" A voice demanded angrily. 

Esendri discoloured. The King. 

The doors were thrown open a moment later, and King Thranduil strode into the room, followed closely by another Elf, who was tall and broadly built, more in the manner of Man than an Elf. He held himself ramrod straight, regal and proud. The clear air of an prince. Fully grown, taller and bigger than his father, he wore an impassive look on his face, as he looked down upon his little brother. 

The King however, had a deep furrow on his brow as he moved aside the bed of the little prince. He took in the ugly bruises, now more evident than ever as the blood had clotted angrily. The bandages, the sling and the cast around his son's leg were all examined carefully. His eyes paused on the little Elf for a long while, staring at his face. The beautiful boy's face was now bloated with splotches of purple, cuts and scratches covering all parts of it. He placed a palm on his son's cheek, feeling the cuts and the injuries. For a moment, the old monarch looked old to Esendri. The immortal face furrowed and troubled. 

His eyes drifted then to the nervous little Elf standing by the bedside, holding the silver basin. His son too, stared at Esendri curiously, noticing his injuries as well. 

He sighed heavily and motioned for Esendri to follow them outside. The Elf cast down the basin and left the room obediently. 

Once outside, the King spoke. "I was told you saved my son. Despite my gratitude, I help not but feel that you should have contained him. The prince is not allowed out of the Palace, surely, this you know!" 

Esendri panicked, and felt tears spring to his eyes. He was mortally afraid of being dismissed from the services he had just started out in. 

Thranduil continued, not waiting for his reply. "However, it is a known fact that it is next to impossible to stop Legolas from doing anything he sets his heart out to do. Even I have not that ability to do so. The only person he remains vaguely afraid of is his brother. It is unlikely, even then, that he would listen." 

The prince Dethronir smiled vaguely at the comment, a hint of irony present upon his proud face. 

Esendri nodded fearfully, unsure of where the conversation was heading. 

"What of his wounds?" Thranduil spoke again, his voice strained. 

"Your Majesty, His Highness had a bad gash dealt upon his forehead. His elbow has been dislocated, and his ankle shattered. The Healers fear he may not walk properly again! He has lost a fair amount of blood, but there is no threat to his life now. It is the splintered bone that worries the Healers the most." 

The weary look reappeared on the King's face. 

"We are indebted to you, indeed, for saving a very precious life. Wipe the worry from your face, and be sure you serve the prince well. Have a Healer to take a look at your own wounds. You may take your leave." 

The servant bowed low as the King left the vicinity, and returned to the room, relieved. Things had turned out better than he had expected. He saw the slight moving of bed-covers, and rushed over. Two bright blue eyes laced with tears stared up at him. 

"Maer aur, Master! How was your sleep?" 

"Is what you told my father, true? That I may never walk again?" The voice small and concerned, the usual confidence absent. 

The little Elf frowned. He did not know how to break the news. He paused for a bit before trying to divert the subject. "I do not know for sure. A Healer could give you a better assessment. Master, I hope you rested well!" 

"The pain kept waking me every few moments, but I was given a herb by a Healer late in the night and slept till the present." 

"And the pain? I hope it has lessened." 

"I wish it were so. It comes in angry, persistent throbs. I do feel much better, and would like to know what happened to you, Esendri!" 

"Well Master, I saw you go down into the water. I could not see you anymore. I was afraid, and jumped in after you. The water was so powerful and strong! Scary it was! It kept sweeping me away from you. Finally when I caught you, I managed to bring you to the riverbank and left you there. Everything is a blank after that!" 

Legolas was silent for a moment. His face was slightly pinched with guilt and pain. Gazing up at the ceiling, he murmured gratefully. "Thank you, Esendri. The fault is mine for getting you into this!" 

The servant grinned at his master. "Worry not, Master Legolas. It is my duty to protect you. It is I who should be sorry! For it is I who has escaped almost unscathed. You were unconscious and I was unsure if you were breathing. There was blood everywhere, I was so afraid!" 

"I think I hit my head after I went down." 

The little prince's face was turning paler by the moment. Esendri knew that the pain was worsening. He quickly placed a hand on his master's shoulder, and did his best to soothe him. 

"Master, please, speak no more. You should be resting! I would tell you stories and you could listen, but please do not speak!" 

Legolas shifted and started to protest, but his body did not allow it. Muscles screamed. Fresh tears leapt to his face, and he bit on the inside of his cheek. His lower lip had become too raw. His was determined not to cry, however, and he frowned and stared fiercely upon a fixed spot on the delicate tapestry that lined the walls. 

"If you do not rest, I would call your mother back in here!" Esendri tried his best to get his Master to calm down. 

The little prince sighed softly, and gave in. He relaxed and settled among the sheets, face still lifted up towards his friend. 

"I forgot one thing, Master! I saw my parents!" 

It got the attention of Legolas. His eyes grew large and he stared incredulously at Esendri. Disbelief crowding upon his face, he waited for the other to continue breathlessly. 

"It was really dark, and suddenly there was a bright light. I was walking down a path towards it. It was dazzling, and I was surrounded by darkness. I saw my parents walking toward me. My father came up to me, and gave me a big hug, and my mother picked me up and cuddled me. After that they turned me around, and took me in the opposite direction. And then I woke up in Milinral's house." 

"Esendri, I believe you were walking down the path towards the halls of Mandos! The way towards the bright light is much easier, and the pain fades with every step you take. I was not ready for it. It would be better for me to suffer here than find relief there!" his eyes grew glassy as he recalled the memory, forgetting the present circumstances. 

"The halls of Mandos? I do not understand." Esendri broke into his thoughts with a quip. 

"When Elves leave Middle-Earth, they journey on towards the halls of Mandos, where it is to be their final resting place!" 

The little Elf fell silent as he contemplated the revelation. He had not known that he had been so close to dying. 

"Why then was it easy for me to turn back? I did not feel anything. Pain was absent from my journey back!" 

"That is because you were in the company of your parents, two people who loved you very much. I do not understand it myself, but it is what I feel is correct!" 

Esendri nodded. Now that reality sank in, he was grateful that he managed to come out from the whole ordeal alive. He found himself admiring the ability of his master to accept the whole situation so lightly. Legolas was able to talk about dying without sounding scared in spite of his tender age. He also brushed aside his injuries, despite the obvious fact that they were severe and hurt badly. 

"I believe you to be correct, master! I do not miss them so much after I saw them, and now feel as if they would always be beside me." 

Legolas managed a small smile. He was glad his friend was feeling better. 

The door opened, and the young Elf that they had seen earlier in the woods sprinted in. He rushed up to the bedside of the little prince, real concern and worried mirrored upon his dark face. 

"You look as if the whole might of the dark forces have descended upon you!" 

"Lithroleah!" the smile on Legolas' face widened. "Am I glad to see you! I got a little thrown around!" 

"You did not tell me about this!" The frown on his face was deep, and the voice indignant. 

"I suppose I was to crawl up from my bed to let you know?" The prince demanded haughtily. 

"Forgive me so, I was worried about you! Do not scare us all again! Believe me, it is not a pleasant feeling! I have to go off with my father now. I will return within the week, and expect you to be ready as new by then, and have a good story awaiting, explaining your current sorry state!" 

He smiled at Esendri, and stroked the little prince's hair, before he was off again. A seemingly inexhaustible bundle of energy. 

Legolas snorted and winced a little. "He keeps himself busy so as to avoid the visions." 

"Visions?" 

"Ai, he has visions of the past and future. They do not occur very much, but they bring him great pain. Lithroleah finds that immersing himself in action helps make sure they do not come to him very often," he offered, trying to explain the other's energy. 

Esendri slapped a hand to his mouth. He had forgotten about his master's breakfast. 

"Master, breakfast!" He rushed out of the door, scarcely looking behind, flying into the nearest kitchen without waiting for a response. 

He charged about helter-skelter, upset that he had forgotten. He was not a very good servant for letting this happen. You deserve to be thrown to the Orcs, he thought to himself darkly. 

Grabbing fruits and some bread, he hurriedly rushed back to the little prince's chambers. 

The sight that greeted him horrified him. Stunned, he dropped the tray. Fruits rolled everywhere in all directions, but were ignored. 

Legolas was curled up in a ball on the floor. The arm held in a sling was pulled inwards towards his stomach, and the other fist was clenched tightly, tensed at the side of his body. Tears were streaming down his face. His eyes were squeezed shut, and he was rocking soundlessly back and forth. Little moans escaped his lips from time to time as the pain reached unbearable heights. Esendri saw, with horror-stricken eyes, that blood was starting to seep through the bandage across his head. Saturating the soft protective layer around it. The prince's face was ashen grey, his lips were so badly bitten, a trickle of blood was flowing from his mouth. 

The servant's limbs turned to stone. He could only stand there and gape. He did not know what to do. His mouth seemed like lead, as he struggled to open it. 

"Help! Help!" he cried, his high little voice carrying into the corridor and entering adjacent rooms. He rushed forward and knelt down beside his master, but did not dare to touch him. Afraid of causing more harm. Frightened that he would bring more pain to the little Elf. 

Others flew into the room, and they too baulked at the scene. Healers were called for by panicky servants, and there was complete pandemonium. The boy did not alter from his state, the pain had totally encompassed his very being, and was unaware of the world and the panic that flooded through it at the moment. 

Minlinral appeared as well, and quickly took charge of the situation. Asking another to bring the now quaking Esendri away from the scene, he walked over to the huddled figure on the floor, and picked him up gently and placed him back onto the bed. The little moans changed into full screams of anguish, and the prince finally gave way to his feelings. He started to cry loudly, and shuddering sobs broke the air. The experienced Elf could see that his ankle was the main cause of his pain, and he moved quickly to stifle it with his magic, pressing his palms to it. 

Healers arrived, and they quickly went to work on the other wounds. The dressing on the prince's head was quickly removed, and herbs and salves used to stem the flow of blood from the newly opened wound. A soft cloth was placed in his mouth to prevent him from biting his tongue. A sedative applied to calm the little body that shook with tremors. 

The queen arrived, and hearing the cries of her little boy, she rushed up to him. She was taken stridently aside by a servant. 

"What happened?" 

"Legolas tried to rise from his bed, and took a tumble." the reply from Milinral was short and curt. There was to be no time for hysterics or panic. 

"Nana! Inaeg! Make it go away!" the little boy cried as he heard her voice through the haze of pain. His sobs doubled, the shaking increased. His fist had turned white with the force it clenched itself with, and angry red and purple marks appeared where his nails dug into silken skin. More tears rolled down his cheeks. The prince's mouth opened and gasped like a fish out of water in between sobs. As if to draw in the fresh air to try and lessen the agony he was going through. His whole body was tense, and Milinral feared that he would go into a fit. His magic was not powerful enough to send Legolas into a deep sleep, as the boy was too agitated for that. 

The older Elf quickly removed the dressing from the little prince's ankle. He moved it slightly, and the spasm of pain that resulted caused the little prince to pass out with a loud scream. He went limp, and stopped moving altogether. The muscles loosened, and his arm dropped off the side of the bed. 

Milinral quickly applied a stronger pressure onto the ankle, before strapping it to a board brought in by one of the Healers. It had to be kept as still as possible. 

That being done, he stood up and looked at the prince. The little Elf's face had gone oddly peaceful now. His face was still wet from the perspiration and tears that had broken out earlier on. He instructed the Healers to apply more salves and to bring more sedatives. The boy had to be kept still, which was close to impossible while he was awake. 

Sighing, he turned to the queen. Her face had gone as pale as that of her son's, as she stared blankly at him. Her eyes did not register any emotions. Milinral walked up to her. 

"Tuilinniel, a strong boy he is. He would recover." His voice was fraught with worry and warmth at the same time. 

The Elf-maiden finally gave way, and collapsed into his arms. Pearls ran down her cheeks. Shuddering sobs ran through her, as she struggled to keep her feelings under control. Worry and pain at seeing her son suffer from the past days welled up in her. 

Milinral shifted awkwardly, and passed the queen over to a handmaiden. He spoke to her softly, his voice low and musical, doing his best to calm her. 

When the queen had stopped shaking, Milinral walked out of the room, and hurried to find Esendri. 

He found the little Elf in hysterics. He was being held by an older servant. His arms beat down on the one who held him still, and he thrashed and convulsed violently, seeking to break free of his imprisonment. 

Milinral quickly walked up to them. He took Esendri from the other, and shook him violently. The pain he caused jolted the little Elf back to his senses. 

Esendri looked up at Milinral. Angry red blotches had appeared on his face, and his sobs continued. Tears continued to stream down his face. 

"Esendri, listen to me!" his tone was stern and commanding, "Legolas is not being helped by your behaving in such a manner!" 

In between sobs, the other choked a reply. "It was my fault! I left the room to get breakfast for him, and he tried to get up. He did not believe that his injuries very severe! Now he is in such pain, and I am afraid he will not be able to walk again! I am to blame for not keeping a close watch over him!" 

Milinral patiently heard the little Elf out. 

"Listen to me, my boy. Nobody is to blame for what happened. It was an accident. It was not due to anything you did or failed to do," his voice was still harsh. 

Esendri nodded miserably. He gulped a couple of times, and continued, "How is he?" The voice was timid and afraid, waiting to listen to the bad news. 

"He is asleep now. He cannot feel any more pain for the time being. However, walking on a shattered ankle will do it no good. It would only severely worsen the injury and cripple any chances of recovery. The prince is a proud boy. He does not want to be seen as a crippled convalescent. Convincing him to pay heed is no easy job. That would be your task, for I have faith in you." 

The sniffing grew softer as the little Elf calmed down. Milinral stood and held him in his arms and soothed his ruffled emotions. Before long, the magic began to take effect, and Esendri faded into the world of dreams. 

**Sindarin Translations:**

tithen pen - little one 

maer aur - good morning 

nana - mummy 

inaeg - the pain 


	4. Recovery

**

Recovery

**

Legolas awoke to the kindly face of Milinral gazing at him. He winced as he felt the board on his ankle. The sharp pangs had dissipated, and were only replaced by dull aches. He frowned, and shifted a bit. Nothing. A half smile and curious look appeared on his face as he stared up and frowned at the one who had done so much to alleviate his suffering. 

The older Elf smiled benevolently back at him. 

"We kept you sedated, hoping that the sleep and the inactivity would make your wounds heal faster. Evidently, it has worked! It is difficult to keep you to one place, my little prince, and that was the only way to do it. Forgive us, Your Highness!" his voice gentle and reassuring, eyes twinkling at the sight of the bright face surrounded by soft linen. 

Another face poked its way into his sight, and grey eyes stared at the prince. The joy on the face of Esendri was all too obvious to behold. 

"Master! Awake you are! It has been more than a week!" he exclaimed. 

Legolas blinked. He had been unconscious for more than a week. It was almost unbelievable. 

"Nana?" he asked, enquiringly. The little boy in him had been awakened by his ordeal, and he found himself wanting her badly. 

"She is taking a much-needed rest and will be here shortly." 

"Meanwhile, Master Legolas, would you like something to drink?" Esendri was altogether overjoyed with his master's recovery, and it was evident from the little jumps he made from time to time as he stared down at his master. He was kneeling beside the prince on his bed, and staring at him with love and euphoria in his face. 

"Yes, thank you!" he nodded his head vigorously. He felt as if there was an empty hole in him. Esendri rushed off to the side, and brought a whole platter of the richest fruit as well as delicate pastries. Legolas picked up a few and scoffed them down his throat ravenously. 

Milinral chuckled slightly. "Well, that completes the path to recovery. You have healed very fast, Your Highness. It has surprised us all, but there is some iron will and determination inane in you that has aided the process greatly. Your arm has regained much of its function, and your cuts and torn tissues have replaced themselves. All that is left now is your foot. That too, I am told, would heal, but it would take a few months at the least. There is to be no extreme activity for you, or risk being a cripple for the rest of your years!" 

"When can I get out of the palace again?" Legolas asked in between mouthfuls. 

"Ai, I can see there is not containing you. Perhaps in a week's time, if the Healers have cleared you. You may go for a brief sitting in the gardens, but only under the close scrutiny of one able enough to handle you, and no walking, if you value your mobility enough!" 

"No walking?" Legolas cried with dismay, "What about my birds?" 

Milinral gently chided the boy. "You would worry us all over again if you do not take heed. Your mother is weak from all the grief that you have brought to her. Surely your own fun and enjoyment should take a step back to her health and welfare?" 

The little Elf blushed a little. He busied himself with the fruit, and nodded slightly. There was something about this Elf, some raw power that scared him. He was kind and fatherly, yes, but he had a hint about him of great deeds and power. The prince did not dare disobey him. For the first time in his life, he felt slightly cowered in the presence of another. 

Esendri heaved a sign of relief. He had foreseen that his master would be demanding for his freedom the minute he awoke. And there were few who could make sure he did as he was told. It was a good thing that he was willing to listen to Milinral. 

The rock that had been hanging on the heart of the little Elf had been lifted, for his master had finally woken up, very much recovered. He kept the joy subtle however, for he knew the Little prince was extremely excitable. It would not do for them to get him all worked up, and risk hurting himself and worsening his condition yet again. It had been difficult enough as it was, to progress to this stage. 

All this ran through the mind of the small servant. Milinral noted the suppressing of the joy and the brief flashes of apprehension and euphoria that danced across his face. He saw that the Elf was mature for his age, even more so than the prince, who had assimilated some of his palatial upbringing to form a wilful and precocious nature that hid under the surface, re-surfacing from time to time. 

It startled the older Elf, as he looked upon the pair. There was a bond between them that he himself had difficulty explaining. Legolas had taken very well to Esendri, and trusted him dearly. It was as if the both had been friends all their short lives. 

The prince had finished his meal by now, and was gratefully accepting a goblet from his servant. Milinral watched as his face turned deep red upon downing its contents, he started as he noticed how it remained after the goblet had left the small lips. 

The Elf walked over to the bed and snatched the chalice from the hand that held it. Bringing it up, he examined its contents. 

"Feywine?" his voice was stern and sharp, addressing the question at the flushed Elf before him, although he felt great surprise and amusement. 

Esendri coloured to the very roots of his hair. He ran and stood before Milinral, a defiant look on his face, and a slight hint of anxiety in his voice. 

"Do not blame Master Legolas! It is my fault, for it was I who came upon the idea of stealing some from the kitchens!" 

Milinral worked hard to keep his face from contorting into a smile. The effect was frightening, and the two younger Elves watched in horror as they saw his face screwing up, as if to let out a bellow. 

"Feywine!" he blurted out again. "You are but children!" 

The little servant panicked, and tears came to his eyes. "Please! It is entirely my fault! Do not punish Master!" 

Milinral surveyed the pair of rascals before him, the prince still pale from his loss of blood and injuries the red flush having started leaving his face, Esendri loosing colour as nervousness and fear took over him. He was astonished at what he saw. A pair of Elves who had not reached ten drinking feywine. It was a strong substance, and the hilarity of the situation soon caused him to burst out into laughter. 

"Indeed! For why should I punish you? I do think it was the correct thing to do, for it seems to have added some colour to your face, Your Highness!" 

The two younglings heaved a sigh of relief. They would not be reported. King Thranduil would not take kindly to it if he found out about this incident. 

"Now that His Highness appears to have recovered, I take my leave!" 

Legolas struggled to sit up in his bed, beads of sweat forming at his temples in the process, as unused muscles tried to protest. 

"Please do not leave us, Milinral, for I have so much to say!" he exclaimed excitedly. 

"Ai, I have left my crops long enough! They would be dead if I tarried any longer!" The older Elf quipped, and was gone before the pair could protest any further. 

"I would have to find his house, for we have to visit him one day!" Legolas sighed and slumped back upon his luxurious pillows. 

Esendri reached out and gingerly touched the little prince's forehead. His face broke into a wide toothy smile for the umpteenth time that day. 

"Your fever has subsided, Your Highness, that is a good thing! You were burning the past few days, I was ever so worried! Promise me never again to try and move when you are not given permission to!" he proclaimed. 

The little prince stared up into the grey eyes of his servant. 

"I have no recollection whatsoever of the past few days! All that comes back to me is the splitting pain." 

A cloud passed over the little Elf's face as he recalled the excruciating spasms that rocked his body. It was something he would not forget so easily. However, it did little to dampen his spirit, and he promised himself that he would be moving about in no time. 

"That was due to the fact that Milinral put you under an enchantment, a spell of some sorts, that made sure you would not move unnecessarily. You responded very fast to the healing balms and salves given to you by the Healers. Even your shattered ankle would heal if given the proper care and time!" he spoke authoritatively, the worry passing away, his sprightly spirit surfacing yet again. 

The door to the prince's chambers opened slightly, and the beautiful Elf-maiden who had kept a silent Virgil beside her son's bed rushed in. She gave a small exclamation of joy and surprise upon seeing the little boy awake. 

"Nana!" Legolas cried joyfully. He reached upwards and buried himself in her soft flowing robes as she ran forwards and embraced her son. 

Tears streamed down both mother and son's cheeks. The Elf-maiden's eyes were bloodshot from worry and weeping, but they now shone with the light of the evening stars as they beheld her son, who had been delivered from his pain. 

She stroked the little boy's hair with her small hand and spoke to him softly in her rhapsodic tongue. 

Esendri slipped quietly out of the room, but not before taking in a last look at the sight of mother and son, still holding on tightly to each other. A small, contented smile crept onto his face as he surveyed the sun dancing across the room, illuminating the peaceful sight. 

His master had recovered fully now. Truly. 

**The End**

* * * * *

**A/N:** Well, that was a little vignette of a piece of little Legolas' life! I hope you enjoyed it, and please let me know what you think of it! I know it's rather fluffy and plotless, but I suppose I needed something lighter for a change. Although, I have to say that the angst/pain factor was definitely there, characteristic of all my works, sadly enough! 

On to the news (good or bad, you decide!) I've got more young Legolas stories planned, so please do keep a lookout for them!! 


End file.
